Chapter 16

Cold air filled Tadashi’s lungs again.

He didn’t rush to breathe.

He didn’t panic.

He just stared at the dirt and fog in front of him, half-asleep, half-dead inside.

His hands were buried in the leaves. His hair was messy, sticking to his forehead. His eyes felt dry, like he had run out of tears days ago — or however long he had been stuck here.

He pulled himself to his feet and started walking without thinking. Not toward anything. Just away from where he woke up. Away from his own thoughts.

But the forest didn’t care.

Branches cracked behind him.

He ignored it.

More cracking. This time sharper.

He ignored it again.

Until a rough, irritated voice barked:

“Boy! You got a death wish or what?!”

Tadashi froze.

That wasn’t a beast. That wasn’t something wild.

That was… a human?

He turned slowly.

A man in his late sixties stood there, holding a long walking stick like he was ready to swing it if he had to. His hair was white and messy, sticking out in every direction like he’d been fighting the wind. His eyebrows were thick, pointed downward in the kind of frown old people wore when annoyed at everything around them.

His clothes were patched and worn — old boots, a jacket missing a button, pants covered in dirt. He looked like he had been living out here for years.

The man squinted at Tadashi.

“Well? You deaf? I said stop walking like a zombie.”

Tadashi blinked, confused. “I… I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man cut him off, waving a hand. “You weren’t paying attention. I could see that from ten paces. Nearly stepped on my trap too.”

Tadashi looked down.

Sure enough, a snare trap sat half-covered by leaves. One more step and he would’ve been dragged upward, helpless.

The man snorted.

“You planning on feeding every creature in the forest, boy? Cause with that pace, you’re doing a fine job.”

Tadashi looked down, his voice small.

“It doesn’t matter.”

The old man flinched at the tone.

“…Hmph.”

He walked around Tadashi, inspecting him the way someone inspects a broken chair — trying to figure out how much damage was already done.

“You look terrible,” he finally said.

Tadashi didn’t reply.

“You eating anything?”

No answer.

“You sleeping well?”

Still no answer.

The old man sighed loudly, jerking his head toward a small clearing ahead.

“Sit. Before you fall over.”

Tadashi didn’t move.

“Sit,” the man repeated, firmer this time.

Tadashi slowly lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged near a fallen tree. The old man eased himself onto the log with a grunt, stretching his back.

“Name’s Goro,” he said simply. “Call me that or old man. Either works.”

Tadashi stared at the ground.

“…Tadashi.”

“Hmm.”

Goro picked up a small stone and tossed it aside.

“You look like someone who hasn’t had a real meal in days.”

“You’re pretty good at guessing, huh?”

“Thought so.”

He opened a cloth bundle and handed Tadashi a piece of dried meat and some nuts.

“Eat slowly. Don’t make your stomach angry.”

Tadashi held the food in his hands but didn’t raise it to his mouth. Goro watched him for a moment, eyes narrowing.

“You one of those stubborn kids, aren’t you?”

Tadashi didn’t answer.

“Tch. Figures.”

The old man leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“You look like lost.”

Tadashi’s breath hitched.

Goro nodded slowly.

“Yeah… I know that look. Seen it too many times.”

Silence stretched between them. Goro continued in a quieter voice.

“You’re walking like a lifeless rat, waiting to killed. That’s why I yelled at you.”

Tadashi’s eyes lowered.

“It doesn’t matter if I—”

Goro snapped.

“Don’t say something stupid.”

Tadashi flinched.

The old man’s voice hardened — not angry, but disappointed, like he expected better.

“I’ve buried enough people in my life, boy. Seen strong men break, seen stubborn fools quit halfway, seen folks lose everything and still push on.”

He pointed a finger at Tadashi’s chest. “But I ain’t letting a kid throw himself away in front of me.”

Tadashi swallowed hard.

Goro leaned closer. “Life doesn’t stop kicking you. That’s normal. But giving up? That’s not normal. That’s lazy.”

Tadashi’s hands trembled. Then, rage took over

“You don’t understand—!”

“Oh, I understand plenty,” the old man shot back. “I know what it looks like when someone’s carrying grief so heavy their knees shake. And I know what it looks like when that grief starts turning into… that.”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Didn’t need to.

Tadashi stared at the dirt. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall.

“You still don’t understand! I lost them, I lost everything! I tried, but I just couldn’t do it. Why, why do I have to endure this!? Was this the reason for my existence? Coz if not then why!?” he shouted.

“Then that’s your problem,” Goro said. “You think you need to know. Sometimes you just need to stay alive long enough to figure it out.”

Tadashi looked away. “But it hurts.”

“Good,” Goro replied.

Tadashi blinked. “Good?”

“Yes, good. Pain means you cared. If you didn’t hurt, you’d be heartless.” Goro leaned back, tapping his walking stick in the dirt. “But pain is not a sign to stop living. It’s a sign you’re still human.”

Tadashi wiped his eyes. Goro continued, his voice softer:

“You think the world needs you to have some big purpose to stay alive? No. You stay alive because you breathe. That’s the rule. Simple.”

Tadashi let out a shaky breath. “But what’s the point?”

“The point is to live long enough to see joy again,” Goro answered. “It always comes back. Maybe not the same joy. Maybe not the same people. But something. Anything.”

Tadashi closed his teary eyes.

Images of Nao laughing under the sun filled his mind.

Kei’s stupid jokes.

Rin yelling at everyone.

Hikaru and Haruto arguing.

“Do you remember them? Those moments you felt like you’ve reached your peak? Do you remember them?”

“…Yeah.”

“Then honor them by living,” Goro said softly. “Not by fading.”

Tadashi’s breath shuddered.

He wiped his tears—slowly, with the back of his hand.

Goro nodded once, like he had been waiting for that moment.

“That’s better,” he muttered.

He pushed himself up from the log with a grunt.

“Alright, kid. We rest here tonight. Sunrise’s safer for walking.”

Tadashi looked up at him, almost surprised.

Goro smirked.

“And don’t go wandering off again. I’m too old to chase after you.”

Tadashi felt something strange.

Not joy.

Not relief.

Something quieter.

Hope.

Small… but real.

And for the first time in this entire forest, he didn’t feel alone.

“Rin, Kei, thanks for nothing.” Tadashi remarked as he stared at the starry sky.